The Light Returns
by JayRain
Summary: Eynla Amell is used to being lonely, but the Eve of Wintersend leaves her feeling especially neglected. When Cullen shows up, reminding her of what's important, it gives her hope for herself and for the future. For user Eynla, for the Thedas United Secret Santa swap! Features her mage and our favorite hunky, sensitive templar preparing for the holidays.


"Eynla?"

She looked up and saw him, standing in the shadows, through the curtain of her white hair. She felt the instinctive rush of fear that came when a templar was near, but it soon dissolved when he stepped out of the shadows and she saw him. Then it was a rush of adrenalin, the thrill of the forbidden along with the happiness that made her stomach flip and her mouth smile.

Eynla stood and smoothed her robes to get out any wrinkles. "Cullen," she said, nodding in greeting. They both stood awkwardly for a moment as the flames from the fireplace cast shadows on the stone walls. "Where's everyone else?" she asked.

"Celebrating," he said simply. He entered the room, closing the door behind him, and for the first time she noted that he held a bundle in one hand. "It's the Eve of Wintersend. Most everyone is at mass."

"And my guard?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"She felt the need to go to mass and celebrate the Maker's light, so I offered to take her place," he said. He smiled, and his cheeks were slightly red. "I went to the kitchens. They gave me some dinner."

"And you brought it?" Eynla asked. She felt her chest constrict with conflicting emotions. Usually the templars liked to toy with her. As a shape changer, her magic wasn't well understood, and largely feared. Hence, her usual templar guard, her solitary room, her overwhelming loneliness, even though she went everywhere with an armed escort.

_Cullen is different,_ she reminded herself, watching the templar lay out a crimson blanket on the stone floor in front of the fireplace. He caught her stare and smiled, then went back to setting up the spread the kitchens had sent with him. His curly, light brown hair caught the firelight, and for the first time she realized, with a start, that he wasn't in armor. He wore simple breeches, boots, and a crimson tunic. The fact that he didn't feel threatened by her nearly brought her to tears.

"Can I… Can I help you?" she asked, taking a step closer. He looked up and shrugged, his lips quirked up in a half-smile. She didn't wait for an answer and instead crossed the rest of the room. She knelt down at the edge of the blanket he'd laid. There was a loaf of crusty bread, a hunk of cheese, some slices of different meats, and a small selection of shiny fruits. The mages rarely had it this good. "Is this fresh for the holiday?" she asked, watching the flames flicker over his face.

"Some of this was meant for the Knight-Commander's tables," Cullen admitted. "But the kitchen staff was happy to share with someone in need."

Eynla tossed her pale hair over her shoulder and crossed her arms. "I don't want your pity, Knight-Captain," she snapped, even as her stomach growled at the sight of the food Cullen had brought. It was better than the mages usually got.

He blinked rapidly and stood up, nearly knocking over a bottle of spiced wine he'd set out. "I didn't do it for pity's sake, Eynla," he said. He moved around the blanket and approached her, and though part of her recoiled, she couldn't bring herself to stay away from him entirely. He was unlike the other templars. He wasn't scared of her abilities, didn't fear what she could do. "I did it because…well, because it's Wintersend." He cocked his head to the side, as if that explained it all.

She sighed and sat down on the edge of the blanket. The floor was usually cold, but between the blanket and the fire it was warmer than usual. "And what does that even mean? What do any days mean in here? It's always the same." She picked at the loaf of bread.

Cullen sat down next to her and produced a small knife from his belt. He helped slice the bread, and then hacked off a hunk of cheese and handed it to her; while she nibbled at it, he poured a goblet of spiced wine. "Wintersend. It's exactly what it sounds like: the end of winter. The days grow so dark that… well, that they have to grow light again. It's a cause for celebration."

Eynla took the goblet he handed her and took a small sip of wine. It was warm and pleasant, part sweet and part spicy. "Days become nights; nights become days. It's just part of the cycle of things. Nothing changes here," she said. "No one changes. Everything is the same."

"It doesn't have to be," Cullen said, looking up at her through his light lashes and blinking. Both inhaled sharply. The scent of cooked meats, fresh bread, and pungent, spicy wine assaulted Eynla and she thought she might pass out. Cullen touched a lock of her pale hair. "If you just let your guard down a little bit, maybe things wouldn't be so bad."

Eynla closed her eyes. His words made so much sense. But then she remembered Kirkwall and all that had happened there, and the way her room—no, cell—here in Kinloch Hold was so lonely and so cold and damp usually. Letting her guard down meant bad things happening; it meant life changing for the worst. She didn't want that to happen, least of all on the Eve of Wintersend. It was the most hopeful holiday of the year. "Maybe someday," she told him, nibbling at a piece of chicken.

They sat listening to the crackling fire for a long time, nibbling at the food. It was far better than what the mages usually got. "Better than what we templars usually get, too," Cullen admitted with a laugh. "We don't live the most glamorous lives." He laughed. "But, I did choose this for myself, so I don't complain."

Eynla tried to smile. But thoughts of home and family clouded her memories and it made her sad. Here was Cullen, risking his position to be nice to her. "Thank you for this," she said instead. "It means a lot to know I'm not forgotten on a holiday."

Cullen smiled and blushed. "No one could forget you," he said. "Don't fool yourself."

Eynla blinked back the sudden tears, but they were not tears of anger or rage. They were tears of joy, of knowing she meant something to someone, that she was important and worthwhile. It was a feeling she'd missed.

She didn't know how long they sat there, nibbling at the food and sitting in the warmth of the fire. He stoked the fire before he left, and helped her find a place to stash the leftovers that would keep. And then he produced a cookie. "Just a small token," he said, blushing again as he handed it to her. "But I'm told it's traditional, and it's quite good."

Eynla took the sweet from him, which brought her dangerously close to him. She smelled the scent of his soap and the oil of his armor that clung to him. It overwhelmed the scent of the cookie, and made her dizzy. She forgot that she was a mage, and he forgot he was a templar. Tonight, none of that mattered. What mattered was the end of the darkness. What was important was the return of the light.


End file.
